


Pain and Punishment

by BackattheBein



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Beating, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Torture, Violence, Whump, set post s2, tags to be added and changed as needed, this bouta be whump city y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackattheBein/pseuds/BackattheBein
Summary: Dirk’s palms scraped against the cold concrete floor, and he managed to bang his busted knee again. He collapsed face-first on the floor, utterly drained. I’ve broken my knee, he thought, and now I’ll never walk again. I’m hurt, I’m starving, I’m lost, I’ve lost my assistant ...“D-Dirk?” A broken voice cut through Dirk’s spiraling thoughts, just like it always did.Dirk looked up, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for him to pick out the body crouched over, the wool sweater, the piercing blue eyes.“Todd?”*Dirk and Todd accidentally end up in the wrong part of town, Los Angeles, and on the bad side of a gang that's out for blood. They are unafraid to take down anyone who's in their way, including two holistic boys. Torture ensues.





	Pain and Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired in two parts. Firstly, by a lovely commenter on my fic "From Blackwing, With Love" who went by Jess-gently. They told me that that fic was the best work they'd ever read, and that I should write more whump for the Dirk Gently fandom, and to not hold back like I sort of did in a few of those chapters. The general response to that fic has been greater than I ever could have expected and hoped, and it continues to blow my mind that people keep reading it and loving it. It currently has over 1700 hits!!! Thank you to each and every one of you who has read that fic. I am really proud of it.
> 
> So! Because that one was so well-received, I want to embark on another multi chaptered work that is heavy on the whump to properly torture our two boys. I really don't have much of the story planned out as of right now, so it will develop as I go along. I might also be open to suggestions... If you have an ideas, maybe something you've always wanted to read, feel free to leave a comment or hmu on tumblr. I will credit where it is due if I decide I want to use an idea as long as you're comfortable with me using it.
> 
> The other piece of inspiration was kiss prompts. I have seen a lot of different posts with kiss prompts lately, and for some reason I can only ever think of angsty kiss prompts. So, here, my goal is to have at least one fluffy moment in every chapter right up next to the violence and torture. 
> 
> I think that's all the information I can share as of this moment, so, on with the story!

_Move! Go go GO!!_

Running, screaming, feet slapping against the pavement being drowned out by the sound of bullets. They were running for their lives. Again.

Screeched to a halt, turned the corner. Heart pounding. _Get away get away **getaway**._

Jumped over the trash can, _get out of the alley now!_

 _Clang!_ A little yelp of pain.

He turned around, not at all surprised to see the Brit had rammed his knee into the metal bin but with no time to lose.

Rushing over to help him up, he didn’t see the baddies were practically on them.

“Come on, man, we – ” BANG!

The last thing Todd remembered before he blacked out was Dirk’s frantic ramblings trying to stop the men from dragging the two apart.

*

When he came to, he was in a dark room. That was the first thing he noticed; even after he was pretty sure his eyes had fully adjusted to the light, there was none in the windowless room.

After about a good minute of trying not to panic, his leg started to bother him, and that was when the panic really escalated. His leg seemed to be buzzing, and he was momentarily completely sure that it was a pararibulitis attack. Todd immediately started searching for his medicine, and that’s when he noticed two very important details: his hands were chained behind his back, and his leg was throbbing because he had been shot.

All his memories came flashing back to him then. He and Dirk had been snooping around the downtown Los Angeles scene, because while on a short break from work Dirk had (inevitably) run into a case of sorts involving a hit man organization posing as surfers. Dirk really wanted to do a stakeout, mainly because they were fun (again, according to him) and they didn’t do them often enough.

“It’s what real detectives do, Todd.” He’d said, somewhat condescendingly, but really trying to lay it on thick so Todd would say yes.

He could never say no to Dirk anyway, not with those puppy dog eyes. Unfortunately, their voice of reason Farah was on vacation, visiting Tina and Sherlock in Bergsberg, so ...

That’s how they’d ended up in that alley, being chased by tan hit men in Hawaiian shirts and leis.

That’s how Todd had, in trying to help Dirk after he’d run into a trash can, been shot in the leg and then smacked in the head, knocked out stone cold.

That’s how Todd was now chained up in a dark room, completely alone, various body parts throbbing.

_Wait, am I though? Dirk could be asleep ..._

“Dirk?” He croaked, his throat scratchy from wheezing. He swore he didn’t have asthma, and really he should be good at running by now, considering how often they did it while out on a case, but God if it still didn’t tire him out.

He tried swallowing, but there was no saliva to speak of (or with, for that matter). _Maybe if I rattle theses chains it will startle Dirk ..._

The chains made a loud clinking sound, like glass grating against metal, rocks on rocks, that rang out through the small space. At least now he sort of had an idea of how tiny the room was, like a broom closet or ...

 _Or a cell_ , the nagging voice in his brain supplied. _They brought you to a cell to bleed out and die, all because you interfered with their business, all because you couldn’t say no just once to your stupid boyf--_

Suddenly, the door was being pushed open from the outside, and it squeaked along the floor as it moved, the hinges in desperate need of oil.

Dirk was hyperventilating, scraping his feet against the floor, clawing at the man holding him as he tried to break free of his captors. He did not like confined spaces, much less pitch black ones.

“Listen, I can help you all,” he squeaked. “If you just please let me go, I can speak to the Universe for you! I lied before, I really am psychic! I can see that your gang is going to win the National Surfing Championship this season and all the people you want dead will miraculously die, without any work on your part! No, no, no, please don’t -- oof!”

The hit men, whose ears had been metaphorically chewed off by Dirk as they had unsuccessfully tried to interrogate him for the past several hours, were more than happy to throw Dirk into a fairly soundproof room for the next few days. The silence would be more than welcome.

Dirk’s palms scraped against the cold concrete floor, and he managed to bang his busted knee again. He collapsed face-first on the floor, utterly drained. _I’ve broken my knee_ , he thought, _and now I’ll never walk again. I’m hurt, I’m starving, I’m lost, I’ve lost my assistant ..._

“D-Dirk?” A broken voice cut through Dirk’s spiraling thoughts, just like it always did.

Dirk looked up, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, for him to pick out the body crouched over, the wool sweater, the piercing blue eyes.

“Todd?”

“Dirk,” Todd sighed, relieved.

Dirk scrambled up, knee-walking over despite the flaring pain, until he could thrust himself at his partner.

Dirk held Todd’s upper arms in a death grip, pulling him forward and shaking him slightly. “Is it really you? Are you okay? What happened?” He rushed out, breathless.

Todd’s answer was cut off as a pair of cracked lips slammed into his. He felt the warmth of Dirk’s hands cupping his cheeks as Dirk held them in place, eyes squinted shut, before eventually relaxing.

All tension left the kiss as Dirk’s mind registered _real real real_. The chaste edge softened, melted, loosened until Todd sucked Dirk’s lower lip between his teeth. Dirk laughed, his warm breath ghosting Todd’s face.

Realizing he hadn’t let Todd answer his question, Dirk pulled back, only to begin peppering Todd’s face with small, sweet kisses.

“Todd!” Kiss on the nose, the cheek, the eyelid. “Are you alright?” Kiss on the cheek, the forehead, the neck, oh nibble the ear a little. “You got shot!”

Todd shivered, but it was the only sign of life he could give at the moment. Somehow, Dirk’s long, passionate kisses always rendered him speechless; not to mention he was still reeling from a killer headache and the fact that he’d been shot.

Forcing his stupid animal brain back online, Todd cleared his throat. Dirk, a bit thrown for once, actually pulled back for a moment. He quirked an eyebrow (adorably in Todd’s opinion), and sat back on his ankles, waiting for a response.

 _I love you_ , he thought, he wanted to say. _I got shot! I thought we were gonna die! You could have gotten hurt! Where is Farah when you need her? Why did I agree to do this? I only listen to you because I’m a lovesick puppy who can’t say no. I mean, sometimes your hunches don’t get us killed or hurt or in trouble, but you know that’s pretty rare. Why did this have to happen on an unofficial vacation where we were finally alone for a goddamn --_

“My leg hurts,” he croaked. _Dammit!_ Why was he always more eloquent in his head?!

“Uh, that’s like, totally lame, bro,” came a deceptively chill voice. “We totally coulda killed ya, but no, we spared you and this chatterbox!”

Dirk turned around slowly, following Todd’s sightline until their assailants came back into view. Apparently, in their loving reunion, the boys hadn’t realized that their captors had never shut the door on them but had watched, sickeningly sweet smiles stretching their sunburned faces.

Todd felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him, the desire to grab and hold Dirk tight to his chest mixing desperately with the shooting pain in his leg.

He leaned forward again. Even though Dirk wasn’t that far away, the chains still dug into Todd’s wrists as he tried to reach out.

Todd hissed as a spike of pain shot through his shoulders. He couldn’t even move his arms in front of himself. There was no give whatsoever. He was stuck.

“Alright, that’s enough for now. Get him outta here,” said a figure, probably the leader, in the darkness. Backlit by crappy fluorescent lighting from the hallway, Todd could tell this dude was the tallest, had long sandy brown hair done up in a ponytail, and was more orange-skinned than traditionally tan, per se.

“No,” Dirk spoke, hoping against hope that he sounded commanding and determined. “I’m staying here.” His voice wobbled like that of a scared child trying to stand up to a parent.

Todd hadn’t realized how shaken this kidnapping situation had left Dirk. He scrambled, trying to move his legs only for his wound to open. He felt a wave of nausea hit even as Dirk frantically grabbed his arms again.

He wanted to scream, to deck these idiots, to grab Dirk’s hand and run like hell all the way back to Seattle, but his splitting headache and bleeding leg and red-raw wrists kept his body firmly rooted to the ground.

Two cronies approached Dirk, grabbing him by the arms and slowly pulling him up and off of Todd. His grip was surprisingly strong, his fists buried in Todd’s jean jacket and clutching it like a lifeline.

“Let go!” Dirk was now crying, tears streaking his dirty face in big, fat tracks. “Please! Let me go,” he whimpered.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Ponytail, who’d been weirdly quiet during the entire interaction. His sandals slapped against the concrete floor.

Todd really wanted to laugh at how inappropriate it was that this guy, who was in all likelihood a crime syndicate or big-wig or murderer or whatever, wore freaking beach shoes during an interrogation.

Ponytail casually leaned down, ripped Dirk’s right hand out of Todd’s jacket, took Dirk’s thumb in his other hand, and broke it.

Dirk, who’d buried his head in Todd’s chest, promptly looked up at Ponytail and screamed, releasing his other fist to try to muffle his shouts of pain as even more fat tears fell.

Soon, the door slammed shut, metal screeching against metal, but all Todd could hear was the piercing sound of Dirk’s voice as he was broken, beaten, and dragged out of the cell, leaving Todd utterly alone.

_Darkness. Pain. Silence. Punishment._

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to hit that kudos button or hmu on my tumblr! I would really really really really really love to hear your feedback on this, even if it's just incoherent screaming or cussing me out, it keeps me inspired and keeps me going.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading <3


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